Category Archives: Ireland

A collection of travelogues from my trips to Ireland, peppered with reviews and recommendations of accommodation, walking tours, restaurants and pubs.

Ireland, Western Europe

Travelogue Ireland 2023: Waterford

WATERFORD

5-10 March 2023

With a charged start to the year that produced a fleeting home-appearance of Brother from Ireland, the usual invitations were laid (“you must come over to Ireland for a visit!”) and promises made (“sure I will! Soon!”). 

For once, there was follow-through. Sister-in-law’s 50th birthday in March was the perfect excuse.

With leave to burn, I booked a week to spend on my own with the family (just outside Waterford) over the half-century celebrations before joining Chris to do a weekend in Isle of Man, and a quick loop around Northern Ireland, culminating in what would no doubt be a very festive farewell in Belfast over St Patrick’s Day weekend.

Waiting the few weeks between booking the tickets and beginning the shenanigans was torture! 

Packing the suitcase equally so. It’s always tricky packing for the season alternate to the current at home. One’s wardrobe always seems so foreign, even though it was a staple just a few months earlier. I didn’t cut any corners and packed everything I may possibly need, in anticipation of the crazy cold I knew I’d be facing on the other side, thanks to almost daily updates from the weather app that revealed plunging temperatures.

It was a very long journey, travelling on my own which is very rare. I managed to use my time wisely, getting unusually good sleep on both flights and utilising the two-hour stopover in Dubai in the middle to get a 5km walk in (by covering the length of Terminals B and C) to keep the blood flowing.

Exiting Dublin Airport, I was grateful for the detailed instructions I had been given on where to find the bus terminus and which bus to catch because not only was I travel-weary, but the bracing cold in my too-light travel wear meant there was no time to dilly-dally if I intended not to freeze to death (a bit dramatic, but it truly was flippin’ cold!).

Half an hour later, I was ensconced in a nice warm coach and enjoying the view from the big windows as we hurtled towards Waterford. 

Anthony met me at the bus station and loaded my incredibly-heavy suitcase into his van to take me back to the family home, where my sister-in-law and nephew were eagerly awaiting my arrival.

I got the lowdown on the lay of the land as we drove out of Waterford, took the bridge over the river and headed up to their suburb, Slieverue.

It was a fantastic reunion, aware of how long it had been since we had last seen each other… and yet fitting back hand-in-glove like no time had passed at all!

I was given the tour of the very spacious home and shown to my very lovely suite; instructed to make myself at home, with a kickstart pack on the bed – fluffy winter pyjamas, a gown and even a pair of slippers!

Returning downstairs to the kitchen, I presented all the treasures I had brought from home. Nothing sophisticated; a selection of favourites that could not be sourced in Ireland so were met with the anticipated and desired level of glee.

In return, I was gifted my first Guinness of the trip and we settled into the lounge to catch up on what we’d missed over the last few years. With conversation flowing, more Guinness on hand and a very cold Ireland outside the front door, we agreed that my arrival celebration would be an in-home one with a delicious pasta meal and the very best company.

I did an admirable job of staying captivated until about 10pm, when my stamina failed me and I simply had to go and test those fluffy jarmies. Yawn. My weary bones were asleep as my head hit the pillow…

MONDAY 

Being Luanne’s birthday, special effort was made for everyone to get up a little early to commune in the kitchen and do well-wishes, presents – and even a quick video call with the parents in South Africa – over a very civilised cup of tea, before Luanne needed to get Connor off to school. 

Anthony and I popped down to the supermarket to get some goodies for breakfast and were soon whipping up a selection of the Birthday Girl’s favourites, to get her day started right.

With bacon and pancakes in the fuel tank, we kitted up nice ‘n warm and took a walk around Slieverue. It was a treat to be able to walk out of the driveway and cross the road into the countryside, ambling down narrow lanes and appreciating the greenery that came from all the Irish rainfall.

Just over an hour and 6km later, we appreciated the return to our warm nest, where we spent most of the afternoon debating what we would do that evening to celebrate the Big Birthday. We were still discussing it when Luanne had to go and fetch Connor from school, so I decided to ride along for company and to play lookout for anything that might catch our fancy for the evening.

Poor Connor wasn’t feeling brilliant, staving off a bit of a cold and with a nagging cough that was taking the wind out of his sails. Consequently, he asked permission to be excused from any celebrations, either home or out. We suspected that he had ulterior motives, to self-medicate with his online games! And his absence spurred his parents to decide on curry for dinner since this was something that Connor would not eat and so a rare opportunity for them (and, of course, no arguments from me!).

We got a taxi into town and walked along the quayside, settling on Cafe Goa thanks to the only remaining table in the cosy little restaurant being a warm and welcoming table-for-four summoning us through the bay window. 

As the only server in the restaurant, our hostess-cum-waitress welcomed and seated us, and proceeded to bustle gracefully between the tables delivering us menus, water and poppadoms while deftly managing the rest of the patrons. She filled our glasses with wine, efficiently took our order and returned with bowls of piping hot food before we’d made a dent in our drinks. 

The curry was spicy and delicious and we scooped it all up with the sticky rice and crunchy fresh naan bread, washed down with the delightful Chilean Cab Sauv.

Fed and happy, but not ready to return home quite yet, we walked to the corner for a nightcap in the Timbertoes Bar off the reception of Treacy’s Hotel. Traditional pub with a sturdy and polished wooden bar as the focal feature, and a fireplace on each end cosying up the place, we indulged in a pint of Guinness from the tap (at 6.50 Euros a pop, which would have to be recorded on the Index!)

Our taxi picked us up right outside and we marvelled at our luck since although it had been raining intermittently over the course of the evening, we’d had the good fortune for it to be dry each time we had needed to be out on the street moving from place to place. Forget the luck of the Irish; this was properly the luck of the South Africans!

Bleeding the special occasion for all it was worth, we opened a bottle of red at home to see out the last of Luanne’s birthday. Despite an endless stream of conversation all day, there were still untold stories that saw us to bedtime.

TUESDAY

A late start thanks to the late evening, I only surfaced after Connor had been taken to school. Not even attempting to rush the day, I produced myself downstairs in the kitchen in my holiday gear (fluffy jarmies, gown and slippers), ready for my mug of tea and a close-out decision on what we’d be doing for the day. Much of our decision-making depended on the weather and even though it would be barely 5 degrees by lunchtime, the sun was out and the day needed to be appreciated.

We had a leisurely brunch of pork bangers, scrambles and pancakes and then slowly prepared for the outing.

Luanne and I led the charge, with a walk around the Village Loop, which started at our gate and circled the enclave of houses behind us. Luanne then walked a second loop while I ran it twice to complete my required 30 min heart rate boost. With the hint of sunshine, we even managed to break a sweat!

Smug at our commitment to good health, we earned ourselves an afternoon of sloth. 

Anthony, encouraged by how invigorated Luanne and I were from our adventure, dabbled with the idea of repeating the exercise while Luanne was out fetching Connor. Of course, we spent so much time procrastinating about whether or not to do it, that Luanne was back before we’d left.

Changing tactics, we decided that we’d just walk the route instead, all the way down to Miler pub, where we would reward ourselves with a pint for completing the 2k downhill – and prepare for the corresponding 2km uphill return. Brilliant to enjoy the fresh air and good balance to spend as much time on the journey as the destination.

On the way back, we were compelled to stop off at the local pub, Stapleton’s, a couple of hundred metres from home, for a pint of fresh-pulled Guinness (5.20 Euros; definitely getting onto the Index!)

Once home, we did a team effort of making dinner an event, with Anthony managing the food, Luanne sorting the music and me providing little more than moral support.

Homemade Alfredo was exactly what we needed to replenish the resources we’d used on our forays around the neighbourhood, while the spirited family dinner and jovial conversation nourished the soul.

WEDNESDAY

Needing to see what all the fuss was about, the plan for the morning was to track down a traditional Waterdford Blaa for breakfast after dropping Connor off at school.

It was freezing – literally, since light snow had started falling that morning – so we parked the car and started the search for a breakfast blaa in earnest, with hands wedged in gloves and in pockets, heads down and chins nested in scarves.

Not flying completely blind since we’d done a notable amount of Googling on the subject, the first open place we recognised from the online searching, was a big bakery called The Granary.

Although quite a big shop, the warm glow of the entrance and the glimpse of the shiny glass counter displaying baked goods that we could see from the door drew us in like a moth to a flame!

We knew we had chosen the right place when we asked the chap behind the counter if they served Blaa with sausages or bacon or eggs and he said all 3, in one! We ordered 3 of those and topped up with hot beverage selections at the cashier.

We’d barely completed the payment transaction when the Blaas were brought to us. A stack of fry-up goodness on a soft white powdered bun. We were invited to try the complimentary tomato relish, which rounded off the gooey (egg), crispy (bacon), and crunchy (sausages) melt-in-your-mouth (blaa) combo perfectly. Unforgettable breakfast bun, well worth a repeat visit!

Being a very chilly day and with the icy wind howling outside, there would be no ambition of walking or running in the wilds. Anthony had skipped gym for a few days while playing host, so we decided we would go to gym together around midday to try and work through the blaa and make space for lunch, which was planned as a reheat of butternut soup that Anthony has previously made from scratch. Breakfast had been such a mouthful that without some attempt at moving it, there would be no space to do justice to the chunky soup that was so perfectly suited to the grey day!

Never able to stick to a schedule (and with no intention of rushing unnecessarily while on holiday), we inevitably left late for gym, which resulted in an awkward amount of time on the tail end of our workout. So, instead of returning home, Anthony dropped me off in town, where I met Luanne and we did a bit of To Do list shopping before picking up Connor from school.

The bright side of the dreary weather is that there is little better than a medicinal hot chocolate when you get home! Melting marshmallows to warm the cockles!

With the grown-ups having some work to do, Connor and I filled the gap with making a cake, belated for Luanne’s birthday which had passed early that week while Connor was a little under the weather. Cheating a bit with a box mixture, we were still very chuffed at the result – and coated the top and sides with a thick layer of cream cheese icing and used chocolate drops to spell out ’50’ in the middle. As chuffed as we were with our masterpiece, Mama Bear was double-chuffed with our combined efforts!

THURSDAY

With the worst weather of the week forecast for Thursday, we woke up to a bleak and raining day. The upside, however, was that the cloud cover holds the warmth in and we were forecast a balmy 8 degree high. At some point during the day. If there was one thing I’d learnt so far it was that Irish weather is all over the place. As Anthony said, “If you don’t like the weather now, wait 10 minutes” because it was bound to swing!

Also great weather for comfort eating, so why not have delicious Alfredo leftover for breakfast?!

Devoid of ambitions for the day and very happy to continue using the weather as an excuse, it was a long and leisurely morning in jarmies and gown, glued to the Lazy Boy and passing the day with book, tea, internet, travelogue, Facebook, book, Rooibos, yawn, WhatsApp, wash-rinse-repeat. Very busy doing nothing.

So busy doing nothing, in fact, that we were half an hour late for our only intended excursion. Another visit to the gym. 

No mind, we did a shorter workout so that we were on time to fetch Connor, which was essential since it was raining quite heavily – and of course quite cold, but a little warmer than you’d think with the the cloud cover keeping in what little warmth there was.

We had the final Choc O’Clock (hot chocolate and marshmallow egg) when we got home. I would miss this daily ritual, which was always a warm welcome home.

Retiring to my recliner while the family took care of their respective work and homework, I basked in the dusky light through the bay window, enjoying the novelty of having nothing to do and nowhere to be.

We finally got around to having our pate on melba and brie on crackers as a little sundowner treat (we had been meaning to all week) and had a special guest appearance by Connor, who had swapped his computer games for our fun and games for the evening (no mean feat for a teenage boy!)

Celebrating the time together and commiserating at how quickly it had gone, we outsourced the cooking and ordered pizzas for dinner. Lots of antics and laughs in the lounge as we created new memories that we’d be able to relive the next time we were able to meet up.

FRIDAY 

With best intention of an up-and-out, we inevitably faffed our way into leaving about an hour later than intended. 

Luanne had dropped Connor at school and returned with fluffy sausage rolls, still hot from the oven at Asda, which had taken the urgency out of hitting the road for brunch on the way to the airport in Dublin.

We’d been fearing a slow passage since the weather apps all reported snow overnight in Dublin meaning the roads could be wet and icy, slowing our movement and raising the risk for accidents and such things causing traffic.

With the luck of the Irish still on our side, none of these things transpired, and we made good time getting to Avoca Cafe just outside Dublin for our morning meal.

We probably could have spent double the time there since the ground floor was a market of infinite browsing potential, with a full service and self service restaurant upstairs. 

But we were on a mission and so efficiently ordered delicious things, enjoying our last meal together with the usual peppering of tales and teasing… which I would so miss until we were next reunited.

Europe, Ireland

Travelogue Ireland 7: Galway

GALWAY

22-23 November 2017

Thanks to our intentness to work in a seafood lunch at the seaside town of Doolin, we ended up seeing what was dubbed (in its own brochure) as “the most visited natural attraction in Ireland”. I’d somehow thought that the Cliffs of Moher were further north up the coast than we were going so they hadn’t even featured in our planning but, nope, there they were. Perfectly positioned, right next to Doolin!

It was only an 80km stretch from Limerick but with single lane country roads, it took us over an hour to get there.

The entrance ticket to the Cliffs of Moher allowed access to the whole complex, combining a self-guided (outdoor) tour with an (indoor) exhibition component. We couldn’t have had worse weather for our visit, being bitterly cold and raining, so we tried the inside bit first.

The Visitor Centre’s claim to fame was its eco-friendliness, tucked into the side of the hill like a cave with a grass roof so as not to spoil the landscape and view, and using geo-thermal energy, waste water treatment and sensor lighting. The visual displays brought the Cliffs to life through audio visual exhibits and 2 short movies, one of which gave you bird’s eye view of the cliffs.

Venturing outside, we used the free downloadable audio guide to walk ourselves through the South platform and then the North and see the Cliffs that had been waiting 320 million years for us to get there.

It was far from ideal weather for viewing. The brochures spoke of how you could see this, that and the other “on a clear day” but we were lucky to even be able to see the series of jutting cliffs because it was so misty! To give context, the Cliffs are 200 odd metres high and range for about 8km over the Atlantic Ocean. They, at least, were really hard to miss – and were quite astounding in their magnitude and composition – clear day or not! But we didn’t see the puffins, the Falcons or the views of 5 counties that might have been seen under different circumstances.

We were chilled to the bone and now even more motivated to get to Doolin for lunch.

It’s a weird thing about travelling that you’ll stumble repeatedly over something you ‘have to do’ when you’re looking for something else entirely… And then when you try and retrace the referred have-to-do, it seems like all trace of the articles you’d originally read have been been removed from the internet! This was the case with Doolin. I couldn’t seem to find the article that had stuck this nugget of a town into our plan.

Fortunately though, it was a 1-horse town so we drove through it all the way to the dock at the end and then back again, and settled on the place that looked most welcoming, Gus O’Connor’s pub on Fisher Street.

Great choice. Fire on the go, so roasty-toasty inside; big smiles from the barman and waitress. A table right by the fireplace, just waiting for us… We had the most delicious seafood chowder and Atlantic salmon with Parmesan mash and all was right with the world.

Really smug at our great decision – and commending ourselves on our commitment to the authentic Wild Atlantic Way experience – we hit the road once again, headed for Galway.

In Galway, ee were again staying in a hostel, again in a private suite. This hostel, the Bunk Boutique, seemed quite upmarket with an equal split of dorm rooms and suites. Our room seemed brand-spanking new with its laminate floor, modern finishes and crisp white linens.

The hotel was conveniently located right next door to the Tourist Office, where we picked up a map and the lady on duty advised us that the daily walking tour at 11h30 would be worth our time if we could see our way clear to leaving Galway a little later than we’d planned to. With no clear plans for our last day besides getting to the airport on time (no particular rush with a 9pm flight), this seemed as good a plan as any – and with it being by far the coldest day we’d experienced in Ireland (cold enough to add another full layer of clothing!) the thought of keeping the evening’s plans minimal and indoors was of great appeal.

She also recommended that we have dinner at McDonagh’s fish and chip shop, which we’d shortlisted anyway, and which was on the other side of town (being a Medieval town, this meant a 15 minute walk at most) so gave us a goal to get there and back over the course of the evening.

Galway was a charming little city.

We crossed Eyre Square, that has been the centre of town for centuries and now was playing host to a Christmas market with scores of little wooden huts selling sweet treats, gift ideas and winter woollies. The middle had a festive display with Gingerbread house, reindeer and candy canes, and little stage that was hosting local musicians keeping everyone entertained while they shipped on Gluwein and munched on their take-away.

The other side of the Square deposited us at the top of the shopping streets; still the original Medieval pedestrian walkways with authentic facades and visible family crest headstones above shop entrances. Buskers’ music filled the air and the Christmas decorations strung overhead provided a warm glow. There was lots of activity, but the kind of busy that added energy not crowdedness.

We stopped off at a pub at the top of the street – one of the oldest in Galway, known for its ‘craic’ (good times) – to recount our day and applaud our good fortunes and great experiences, biding time for the famous fish feast that awaited us.

A product of our own anticipation, it became quite an early dinner! And was every bit the hype we’d read about. We opted for the battered cod and salmon, which arrived with a mountain of chips and mushy peas. A visible award-winner!

Doing the usual pub search both on our walk through town and on the internet over dinner, we decided to spend the evening (our last in Ireland, sob!) at Sally Long’s, the only hard rock pub in Galway.

Quite different from all the strictly traditional pubs we’d been in over the course of the week, Sally’s had a Harley in the entrance, a Last Supper mural of musical legends, a pool table and was blasting AC/DC when we arrived. It was good for a change of pace.

WEDNESDAY

Our last morning had to start the right way: FULL Irish breakfast. We got exactly that at a fantastic little restaurant called Riordan’s, which gave ALL the trimmings (mushroom, baked beans, fried potatoes etc) as well as the sausage, bacon, black and white pudding. Excellent fuel for the walking tour and to combat the icy day.

It was a far better call to defer the walking tour as although it was cold, it was clear blue skies and no rain.

We met our guide, Jerry, who walked us through the town we’d already become quite familiar with, but filled in the gaps on the who, what and how we’d gotten to the Galway we were in.

Besides the usual tales of pillage and plunder, Vikings and Cromwell, Jerry spent quite a bit of time telling us about how life changing John F Kennedy’s visit to Ireland in 1963 had been. Obviously of Irish descent and leader of the free world, his visit went beyond ‘welcomed’ and all the way to hero worship and squares and roads were renamed after him, statues and commemorative busts erected and portraits and plaques placed alongside the Pope in the churches!

Another interesting sight and anecdote was Lynch’s Window, where the local Magistrate, James Lynch, lived up to his reputation for unbending justice when he notoriously hanged his own son who had killed a merchant. This is where the term ‘lynching’ is derived from.

Jerry concluded his tour at the Spanish Arch, so named for the Spanish merchant sailors who came ashore there to peddle their wares. This was also the site where the Claddagh women would sell the fish their husbands had caught. The Claddagh lived across the river in rows of white thatched huts and only crossed for trade. They are the people from whom the traditional Claddagh rings stem. You’d recognise the design if you saw it; the band forming 2 hands on the top side that are clasping a heart with a crown on it.

Done with the tour, we jumped in the car and headed for the airport. We had plenty of time since it was a 200 odd km drive and we had over 4 hours to cover the ground.

We needed to stop to refuel so coincided it with a visit to Athenry, renowned to us because of the famous Irish ballad “Fields of Athenry“… With a killer version by The Dropkick Murphys, that we blasted as we headed on our last leg, in the direction of Dublin.

We arrived at the airport in plenty of time for our flight. A bit early, in fact, as check-in wasn’t even open yet. We made the best use of the time and got in a last Guinness for the road. Unbelievably even with the usual airport inflated prices, the pint was still cheaper than the tourist trap Temple Bar!

Sláinte Ireland. Thanks for all the good times. Hope to see you again soon!

Europe, Ireland

Travelogue 6: Limerick

LIMERICK

22 November 2017

The drive from Tralee to Limerick was only 101km and we were back on double lane highway so it went really quickly.

We routed through the little town of Adare, renowned to be one of Ireland’s prettiest towns – and we could see why. If we hadn’t just stopped for refreshments in Tralee, we’d have stopped in Adare for something just for the sake of soaking in some of the prettiness!

But we soldiered on and went to Limerick, where we’d be spending the night.

Our hotel was in a prime location, right alongside the wide River Shannon and had we had a room on the other side of the building, we would have had a view of some of the most famous sites in the town: St Mary’s Cathedral, King John’s Castle and the row of Georgian houses in between.

Even though it was still early when we arrived, it was already dark, so we took a whirl around the Medieval Quarter to get a lay of the land, but left the formal sight-seeing and picture-taking for the morning.

Not yet hungry (again) either, we made our way through the modern shopping streets on our way to the more quaint Market District.

The roads were busy with people finishing work and doing their shopping. The town’s Christmas lights and decorations were already live, combining with the dark and crisp evening to make for quite a festive feel – probably more Christmassy than we’d feel in a month’s time in sunny South Africa when it really was Christmas!

The Market District was a little quieter; being mostly restaurants and pubs, probably a bit early for its main trade. We’d consulted online for recommendations on where to try – there are way too many pubs in every Irish town to take chances! – and started at Nancy Blake’s.

We settled on the barstools in the little passage that connected the two main bar areas, but soon moved because it was too warm – hardly something we’d suspected would be said on this holiday! – from the effective fireplace in the smaller bar. We sipped on our pints and logged them on our Guinness Index.

Our second stop was quite the opposite. Flannery’s was dark and a bit chilly and lacked the warmth in both temperature and atmosphere that Nancy Blake’s had had, not helped by the indifferent bartender who was playing his own (dreary) music and smoking on the doorstep. By that point it was dinner time anyway, so we chalked it up to experience and moved on.

We pinpointed The Locke as our final destination since it was accoladed for its menu, had traditional music and dancing every night and was just across the bridge (over the mighty Shannon) from home.

We had a Limerick local serving our table, so took his advice on dinner orders and were soon enjoying a seafood pie (like a cottage pie but with a creamy fishy mix instead of mince) and a traditional Irish stew that complemented perfectly, cutting the creamy pie with its simple stocky broth.

Our dinnertime conversation was logistics-intensive. We were, not unusually, planning a meal ahead like they were going out of fashion and thus, in this spirit, planned get up and have breakfast at the very earliest possible instant (rather than lazing and languishing in bed as we’d been doing the previous days) so we could do our self-guided Limerick tour and make space for a seafood lunch when we were back on the Wild Atlantic Way. Only we could decide at dinner that we best hurry up and have an early night so we can have breakfast early enough to be hungry enough by lunch to appreciate it!

With this ‘early to bed; early to rise (for a fuller-than-Full Irish)’ in mind, we were soon headed back to our hotel, happy as little larks with our preliminary sightseeing done, a great evening behind us and another exciting day ahead of us.

We could have done with an organised walking tour of Limerick as it seemed there was more detail to the story of this city than could be cobbled together through the handful of sites and bitty historical overviews on the internet.

Unfortunately, the local walking tour guide, Declan, had a day job at the tourist office so could only accommodate during his lunch hour – and this was obviously too late as we a) had breakfast to move and b) had our own lunch plans. So, we made the most of it and did a quick loop around the Medieval Quarter on our own.

From what we could tell, the area of Limerick had been occupied since the Stone Age, succumbed to the Vikings in the 800s and 900s and then got its signatures architecture (King John’s Castle and St Mary’s Cathedral) around 1200. The Castle was sieged several times between the English/Irish issues, Cromwell and William of Orange, which was pretty typical of the 1600s which seem to be quite a tiring time in Irish history in general. All sorts of people invading and marauding and fighting battles to back and forth bits of Ireland inch by inch.

We wanted to end off our tour with the McCourt Museum, a tribute to the Frank McCourt book “Angela’s Ashes”, a copy of which my Grandpappy had given to me as a teenager. The story was an anecdotal memoir of Frank’s impoverished childhood in Limerick and the museum is said to be small but very tangible of life in the time the book was set.

Unfortunately, the museum only opened at 11 and wasn’t worth waiting almost an hour for, so we hit the road in search of the next wonderous experience.

Europe, Ireland

Travelogue Ireland 5: Killarney

KILLARNEY

20 – 21 November 2017

The main drive for the day was the Blarney to Killarney stretch, which took about an hour and 20 minutes despite being only 60 or so kilometres, thanks to single lane country roads with one or two impediments along the route.

Arriving in Killarney was surreal. A picture-perfect 19th century Stepford town that is neat as a pin but with enough allure that you want to step into its shoes.

We pulled our rental into the parking lot and were very pleased to find the hotel to be more fitting of the surroundings than the price tag. Bonus!

We dumped the bags and headed out to make the most of daylight and visit the Torc Waterfall. We unwittingly, apparently, had coincidentally managed to be in Killarney for the falls’ most impressive time of year – where there was lots of not-rain and the falls were full and gushing! We took a trot around the base of the falls, but when tempted by the path surrounding it, were put off by the slippery leaves that made the steps lethal from the not-rain.

Having sated our sense of adventure, we returned down the road to Muckross House to investigate the magnificent house and gardens (and craft shop). Nice, but nothing life-changing.

We returned to the hotel to park the car and walk into town.

Killarney was beautiful. Not a hair out of place. Pretty little streets with Christmas lights and toy soldier decals on the traffic bollards to add to the effect. Not a single facade needing so much as a touch-up of paint.

The centre see-and-do was a neat little grid lined with brightly-lit shop windows, most complete with Christmas decorations. It felt like we were walking through the set of one of those RomCom festive blockbusters!

It was still a bit early for dinner so we thought we’d sample some of the pubs by way of a sundowners pub crawl. We contrasted a very dark and dingy local spot called O’Connor’s with the more upmarket The Laurels before making our way to Murphy’s for dinner – a feast of local Kerry lamb and Kerry beef Cottage Pie.

The waitress was so friendly and free with advice that it was hard not to take her suggestion and nightcap at Reidy’s around the corner, where Christian had a taste of some *very* pricey whiskey he’d wanted to sample at Midletons, while we were entertained by the lively band and I logged our pints on our Guinness Index.

MONDAY

Killarney is well positioned to access the grand sites of Ireland’s South West. We’d already predetermined that if weather was good we’d attempt the Ring of Kerry, a 180km circular driving route that takes in some of the most breathtaking scenery in the lush inland and the dramatic coastline with its crags and cliffs. Of course, lousy weather would result in a slow and tedious drive and an album of misty pictures.

We woke up to rain and, with a full Irish breakfast on board, slipped into Plan B, the smaller Dingle Peninsula, said to be home to a wealth of historical monuments (more than 2000 archeological exhibits!), Irish culture and still have more than its fair share of beautiful scenery.

The driving was slow going compared to what we were used to, since the road was primarily (what could only be very generously described as) single lane and winding, but we were still at our first stop, Dingle, in around an hour so we carried on driving past it to see the Fahan Beehive Huts.

The huts were a collection of stone igloo-looking buildings fashioned together by piling rocks very specifically so that they overlay and overlock each other, forming a perfectly dry room beneath. They had been so carefully crafted that there were even flat rocks forming lintels and doorframes on each beehive. You could still see the fireplace alcoves so these beehives might actually have been quite snug once a toasty fire was going.

There was some conjecture as to how old these relics really were, since this form of masonry, called ‘corbelling’ had been around since into the multi-thousands BC and was still used as recently as the 1950s. The site was relatively well-preserved since the area was quite remote, but it was a pity that only 5 huts remain from the 400 more that used to fill the hill – and amazing that we were still allowed to walk around inside the huts since they were such a rare artefact.

Returning to Dingle, we took a break from the drive and had a wander around town. Another quaint and delightful little seaside town, all pubs, fish n chip restaurants, coffee shops and odds and sods shops like crafts and a haberdashery.

We concluded our visit to the Peninsular and foray with the Wild Atlantic Way with a drive to Tralee (an hour) to stop for refreshments before the final leg to Limerick, where we’d be spending the night.

Europe, Ireland

Travelogue Ireland 4: Cork

CORK

19-20 November 2017

We had 132km to travel from Waterford to our stop for the night, Cork, which we planned to break with a quick visit to the Midleton / Jameson distillery en route.

Again it was all double lane highway so an easy drive, which was fortunate since our “break” at Midleton turned out to only be a hop, skip and a jump (24km) from our final destination.

Our arrival was ill-timed, with a tour having just departed so, not prepared to wait almost an hour for the next one, we made do with our own makeshift tour of the giftshop and all the exhibits in the reception area. Suited me fine since, seeing as I’m convinced I’m allergic to whiskey since it has made me violently ill both times I’ve tried it (in my twenties), this excursion has been filling me with trepidation since Christian suggested it!

He was also filled with less anxiety pulling out of the distillery having literally rather than figuratively ‘bought the t-shirt’ – a relief we both expressed when less than half an hour later we were negotiating the lanes around our residence, so tight that I actually got out of the car to direct as we inched through!

We had booked into a hostel in Cork, which we do by rare exception and had only done so this time since they offered private en suite rooms. Turns out that there were only a handful, enabled by the hostel having bought the townhouse next door. It felt like we had an apartment since we had a suite that opened onto a twin bedroom, with a private double bedroom on the one side and bathroom on the other. It was flippen’ freezing in the room, so the extra duvets would come in handy!

Having not eaten since breakfast and no doubt psyched by the fact that it was dark even though it was only 16h00, the first and only priority was to get some dinner.

Our burly but friendly reception desk chap hadn’t hesitated an instant when we asked for a referral, offering The Fish Wife as his recommendation. Perfect. He’d given us a very simple tourist map and set us on the right direction so we headed off into the night (well, dark afternoon), single-minded.

The fish ‘n chips shop was tiny, with a couple of bar stools in the small customer-side of the mostly-kitchen space. But it smelled heavenly and offered the service of delivering your food to you across the road on the ‘heated & seated’ terrace of the Shelbourne pub, should you be amenable to returning the favour and buying a drink.

We were amenable and ordered a Murphy’s stout (checking out the competition, being on their home turf ‘n all) while we waited, people-watching the bustling MacCurtain Street in rush hour.

Soon our cod and chips (with mushy peas) arrived and we could see what all the fuss was about. It wasn’t as homely as North Shields Fish Quay (in Newcastle Upon Tyne) with their complimentary bread & butter and pots of tea, nor as picturesque as Mersea Island‘s offering, but it was generously portioned, delicious and well-timed which is a hattrick that adds big points.

Fed and happy we followed the sounds of cheering that we’d heard intermittently as the wind had carried it in our direction. Over the River Lee and into what looked to be Cork’s upmarket shopping hub. As we crossed over the bridge we could see that the street ahead that  ran between the big glossy department stores lining either  side had been cordoned off and we were faced with the back of a stage.

We followed the crowds around the block, eager to see what all the fuss was about. Turned out to be a big event celebrating turning on the town’s official Christmas lights. The road was packed and there were entertainers and food stalls keeping everyone in good humour and piped commentary from the local radio station, who seemed to be hosting the event. Nothing was happening on the stage yet, but there was obviously a show to follow.

We hung around for about half an hour, soaking up the vibe and the surrounds, but on asking a policeman what time things were happening and being told there was another hour and a half to wait, we decided that we’d seen enough Christmas lights in our time to imagine what takes ones would be like.

We made our way back to the entertainment district and picked Corner House pub to round off the day with Guinness (logged on our Guinness Index of course) and traditional music.

Having consulted THREE weather sites for a rain-check, I was confident it was Not Raining on Monday so, because it was warming up and dry, I ditched the full hooded waterproof jacket in favour of a more comfortable lined hoodie that would suit our ‘in and out the car’ day.

We headed off to Cobh (pronounced ‘cove’), the last stop of the ill-fated Titanic journey, as our first excursion for the day.

Needless to say the ‘not rain’ was still too much rain for us and we skipped the waterfront walk and museum visit we’d planned to enjoy a real genuine homegrown Cobh breakfast instead.

It was a great call – 3 pork sausages, bacon and an egg on a mammoth roll, washed down by a pot of tea, for €5 each, from a tearoom that had been exactly there for over 100 years, told us more about Cobh than we’d intended to learn. Double thumbs up!!

It was slightly less not-raining when we left the tearoom and we managed a quick trot along the promenade, which rewarded us with a photo opp with a passing Irish Battleship!

Feeling smug and rewarded for a great decision and job well done, we hit the road for Blarney.

30 something kilometres later we got to Blarney to visit the famous Blarney Castle and kiss the Blarney Stone.

The Castle is the 3rd structure to be on the site: a 10th Century wooden hunting lodge was replaced by a stone structure in around 1210, which was demolished and used as foundations by Cormac McCarthy in 1446. It’s the tower of this 3rd castle that tourists have been visiting for hundreds of years to see the Blarney Stone which is embedded in the walls below the battlements. Kissing the stone is supposed to give the ‘gift of the gab’ and, being slightly below floor level, requires that you lie on your back and bend over backwards to kiss it. It’s likely a load of baloney, but still worth a shot!

You can walk through the whole castle, exploring the alcoves and niches that branch from the central narrowing spiral stone stairwell. While an architectural and construction victory to be still standing all these years later, it was a far from comfortable dwelling style. And must have been a mission to furnish!

The castle was set in magnificent gardens, said to be one of the most visited in Ireland (hardly surprising with the Castle as a top attraction and with the price of the entry ticket!) so we took a wander around the prehistoric fern garden, the deadly Poison Garden and Rock Close with the Yew trees and Druid stones until it started to not-rain again so we headed for the car.

Leaving Blarney we had the end goal for the day in mind – get to Killarney.

Europe, Ireland

Travelogue Ireland 3: Waterford

WATERFORD

19 November 2017

Waterford was a detour daytrip added to our itinerary once we’d spoken to my folks who had been (some 24 years ago) on their own roadtrip. A quick Google revealed that the pretty coastal town had 3 main things to offer – the world-famous crystal, the historically significant Viking Triangle and the “blaa” (a bready doughy thing that definitely seemed worth a try).

Leaving Kilkenny a little later than expected, we were delighted to find that Waterford was not only a mere 48km from Kilkenny, but it was also double lane freeway all the way.

Barely half an hour later, there we were. In Waterford!

Waterford claims to be Ireland’s oldest city, over 1100 years old, having been settled by Regnall (Anglicised to Reginald), the Viking adventurer and pirate in 914. He established a base, named it Veorafjorer (“haven from the windswept sea”), built a ‘longphort’ dock, made himself king and then took a fleet of ships and sailed to York, conquered it and became the first Norse king of York as well.

Waterford has embraced that story and created The Waterford Viking Triangle; a compact historical adventure in the old town with a concentration of things steeped in history to see and do.

We parked on the quay and made our way to the apex of the triangle to start with Reginald’s Tower; the oldest civic building, going back to 947AD, which now houses a Viking exhibition inside and a 40 foot replica Viking longboat outside.

We arrived at exactly midday, which the signboard outside advised was the start of Storytelling. Serendipitously, entrance to the Tower was free for the day, as part of some Winter celebration, so we went all the way to the top… And then did a rapid about-turn when we were faced with the storyteller; a lady in a heavy velvet cape and hat, wielding a ukelele. She’d already started plinketty-plonking and warbling the story. I think Christian might have thrown himself from the top of the tower if I’d subjected him to that for the full hour!

We did have a squizz at the other exhibits on the lower floors which gave us some insight into the who’s who and what’s what.

It was a pity that Waterford’s Epic Walking Tour only ran in summer as we’d have liked to do that since it seems to hit the whole Triangle and it would have been nice to have some details (and anecdotes)… But we made do with our own makeshift walking tour, armed with a free map from the Medieval Museum.

The triangle was so compact that it was more of a ‘pivot’ tour with short bursts of walking in between. Emerging from the Medieval Museum, we did the first pivot with the Royal Theatre, Mayors’ Treasury and King of Vikings virtual reality experience to the right and Bishops Palace and Christ Church Cathedral to the left.

We went left and took a cheesy snap at the Strongbow and Aoife interactive sculpture – a set of bronze throne chairs.

Strongbow was a Norman Lord (Richard Fitzgilbert De Clare) who was recruited by the King of Leinster who had made a poor political choice and – adding insult to injury – had abducted another regional king’s wife and thus fled to England. He wasn’t having much success enlisting support until he happened upon Strongbow who took a fancy to the King’s daughter, Aoife, and put together an army of men to send to Ireland to help the King regain his land, which they were able to do… And then some. Seems like the Normans and Irish got on better than either did with the English so perhaps not so smart on the King’s part to jump out of the pan and into the flames.

On a more somber note, the next photo opportunity was the John Condon memorial; a bronze sculpture in Cathedral Square commemorating the outbreak of World War I, which claimed the lives of more than 1100 Waterford men and women, including the youngest soldier to die in the war at just 14 years old.

On that note we concluded the tour with a visit to the famous House of Waterford Crystal and its lavish retail store that holds the largest collection of Waterford Crystal in the world – hardly surprising, looking at the price tags! Needless to say, the only keepsake we came away from the crystal shop with are lovely memories and a photograph for the annals.

Sadly, we came up dry on the third goal for the day, based on our Googling turning up that these ‘blaa’ bread rolls are a bakery thing and there were no bakeries open, being a Sunday afternoon.

Still, as they say, 2 outta 3 ain’t bad and we felt we’d had enough Waterford experience to have been more than worthwhile, so we hit the road for the next stop on our Epic Ireland Roadtrip Experience (EIRE).

Europe, Ireland

Travelogue Ireland 1: Dublin

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DUBLIN

16-17 November 2017

Ireland had been high on the travel list for as long as the (virtual) list had been in existence, but it was probably the Guinness drought at our new local, The George, in Umhlanga (we’d temporarily relocated to Durban for 6 months starting in September) which raised its priority.

We patched together a roadtrip map, booking our rental car and accommodation but otherwise setting off with an unusually thin plan – thanks largely to a crazy work schedule (which is neither the stereotype for Durban nor the lifestyle we’d envisioned for our coastal relocation) – and rationalised relaxed agenda with Ireland’s notoriously temperamental (read: miserable) weather. We figured there was no point wasting time planning things that we might not get to / want to do if the weather was foul. Besides, everything looked lovely in the pictures anyway and, no matter what, we’d have some solid loggings for our Guinness Index, where we note the price of a pint of Guinness in (Irish) bars around the world.

Thankfully our flight landed at 11h10 so we had the kindest possible acclimation, emerging from the airport into the 8 degrees midday ‘high’ in Dublin; bracing to say the least. But it wasn’t raining, so thank heavens (literally, in this case) for small mercies!

We’d specifically chosen our hotel because it was (cheap and) central to the sights and the airport Airlink bus stops right outside. The airport was also only a few miles from the city so it was an easy commute to get to where we needed to be. Right in the thick of all we needed to see!

With such a quick ‘n easy process, we were at our hotel just after 12 so too early to check into our room. We stowed our bags in the luggage room (uneasily, being South Africans, which means always assuming someone is going to steal your stuff!) and headed out to see what we could see.

True to form, maps give great direction but little perspective and everything was much closer than we thought it would be.

Our little orientation circuit took us down Henry Street (a wide pedestrian shopping street), along to the Liffey River and over it on one of the many bridges into Temple Bar (the famous pub district) back  over the Liffey on the Ha’Penny Bridge, along the renown O’Connell Street, back down Talbot Street (another pedestrian arcade) and back to the hotel, just passed 2 o’clock check-in!

The first of our only 2 pre-arrangements was a Guinness Storehouse tour (an obvious must for anyone’s trip to Dublin, or Ireland for that matter), booked for 17h00. We’d pre-booked the last entry for the day because it was half-price online (€17.50) and doubled nicely as Welcome sundowners. We are also always flash-tourists so didn’t see the 7pm closing time as a risk to not having enough time to take in the full experience.

That left us enough time to freshen up, do some basic research (internet, Google Maps, the magazine guide in the room and my brother on WhatsApp since he happened to be in Dublin as well and had spent a few weeks there already so knew the lay of the land) and to grab a quick bite en route. We wanted convenience food, but local, so ate at a Supermac’s – a “100% Irish” (according to every piece of branding) burger chain with a branch every time you blink – with a carb-bomb tasty and filling enough to be The Meal For The Day.

We got to the Guinness Storehouse a bit early, which didn’t seem to matter as nobody checked our (bargain 5pm) tickets and we were welcomed and ushered through to start our tour on the light side of 16h30.

It was an impressive set-up, with the intro conducted at the base of the 7-storey circular atrium designed to look like a pint glass – that if filled would hold 14.3 million pints (the equivalent of 3 pints per person in Ireland!). After the intro, guests were set free to enjoy a self-guided tour at their own pace, which really appealed to us.

Each floor told a different story through larger-than-life displays, videos, interactive exhibits and bitesize chunks of info displayed on walls, floors and ceilings to keep things interesting and entertaining.

The recipe was shared in painstaking detail: Barley… Hops… Yeast… Water… And, the secret ingredient, Arthur Guinness.

Arthur and his wife Olivia had 21 children, but they lived in difficult times and only 10 survived to carry on the family name. The business was family run for several generations, but is now owned by alcohol brandhouse, Diageo, which is a bit of a shame.

The tour ended with a free pint in the top floor bar, Gravity, which has spectacular 360 degree views over Dublin with etched blurbs on the glass so you know what you’re looking at.

It seemed only natural that our next stop would be the Brazen Head, Ireland’s oldest pub, dating back to 1198. A quaint patchwork of a pub with a series of adjoining rooms, with lots of nooks crannies crammed with tables and chairs / stools. Very festive and lots of hearty food being served.

My brother came through and joined us for a pint of Guinness which led to a bit of a pub crawl that included Oliver St John Gogarty (Temple Bar classic with live traditional music and a pricy pint, which we logged on our Guinness Index) and Mulligan’s (a “no-nonsense 18th-century pub with a cast of regulars and lack of modern pomposity”; more down-to-earth and €1.30 cheaper per pint!)

It’s been a worthy innings for Arrival Day and we welcomed a good night’s kip in a warm bed!

THURSDAY

The second (and last) of our pre-arrangements was a free walking tour departing from City Hall Square at 11am.

We had a very leisurely start to our first holiday-day, languishing in the not-having-to-get-upness of it all and appreciating the soft and warm duvet before having to suit-up with all the layers to take on the elements.

We left our sanctum just after 10 and picked up a banger and bacon baguette en route to the tour meeting place.

We were again lucky (and delighted!) that it wasn’t raining in a city that according to our tour guide, the delightful Jack Redmond, gets an average of 270 days of rain per year.

Jack started us on our tour with a summary of Ireland’s illustrious history, with the fitting backdrop of Dublin Castle, built by King John (the bad guy from Robin Hood).

In a nutshell:

10,000 years ago, in the Ice Age, Ireland was connected to Britain by a land bridge… until the ice melted and split the two. (Our guide was openly elated about that!)

Then, some time later, the Romans came to Ireland and set up trading posts and whatnot… But buggered off when they experienced the weather, naming it Hibernia “The Land of Eternal Winter”.

In 841 Ireland got its first Viking invasion. They (who probably found the weather quite balmy compared to the fridge they lived in) thought it was a fabulous place and did a great job of establishing a whole bunch of towns, including Dublin in 988.

Almost 350 years after the Vikings invaded, the Normans arrived in 1169, invited by the Irish King Of Leinster who had been driven out of his kingship by a rival Irish King. But then he didn’t have enough soldiers to win Ireland back from the invaders he’d invited in. This marked the beginning of almost 800 years of British rule.

The Irish and the English actually got on pretty well until Henry VIII, who broke away from Catholic Church, which didn’t suit the Irish commitment to religion.

As if enemies and invasion weren’t enough, proper disaster struck in the 1840s and 50s. The 8.5 million people succumbed to the failed potato crop, the staple food – and, in most cases, almost only food – of the majority of the population and only half survived. More still emigrated and wilted the population down to a couple of million. It’s taken over a century to recover and Ireland still only has 6.7 million people now.

The North/South split came about from the Easter Uprising in April 1916 when a group of Irish nationalists staged a rebellion against the British and proclaimed an Irish Republic. It lasted 6 days and resulted in self-governing parliaments for Northern Ireland (the six north-eastern counties) and Southern Ireland.

In 1922 Ireland got its independence for the first time in 750 years. 210 or so wars in Irish history… And they only won 1. The last one. The War of Independence. Which explains the commitment to Isolationism, including remaining neutral in the World War.

Ireland’s independence left deep political division. Catholics wanted a Republic (IRA); the Protestants appreciated what England had done for them and wanted to remain part of the United Kingdom. It was a bloodthirsty battle that spanned decades and took thousands of lives. 1998 saw the Good Friday Agreement which ended the formal bloodshed almost overnight.

The economy enjoyed a heyday called the Celtic Tiger at the end of the 20th Century, but then the economy collapsed – and again a lot of people emigrated  to find jobs and opportunities – and the country is only now starting to recover from the recession.

To finish off the story of the  Irish/English, Queen Elizabeth only visited Ireland for the first time since Independence in 2011. It was apparently a solemn occasion that was observed largely in quiet contemplation from home… In stark contrast to the 100,000 or more people that had lined the streets for Obama’s visit. The Queen, bless her, wore a bright green dress, started her public address with a warm opener in Gaelic (nice touch) and did a good job of humanising herself on the visit by taking in the tourist sights, including the Guinness Storehouse (where she didn’t fancy her pint, but Prince Philip polished it off for her, after gulletting his own).

By now we’d walked around the Castle and were on the outside, next to the Charles Beatty Library, which Jack told is is one of the best places to visit in Dublin (and was free to enter).

Dublin Castle is 800 years old but only the tower has survived the full duration and now has extensions of Georgian architecture, for which Dublin is famous, and a Gothic church that hasn’t seen a service since 1990. We could now see, on the other side the historic building, it had been painted in bright colours – according to our guide, who called it ‘Legoland’, an embarrassing hangover of the Celtic Tiger mania but too expensive to reverse.

The tour then moved on to the Christ Church Cathedral, which has had its fair share of mottled past, including being home to a brothel for 30 years… to add insult to injury, run by serial-killer madam, Darkey Kelly.

We were by now 2 of the 3 hours into the tour so Jack gave us (and himself) a break at Bad Bob’s Bar in Temple Bar, which was already festive and I suspected where every day was St Patrick’s Day. While the others popped to the loo, we necked a quick pint of Guinness, well-entitled since it was well past noon and, with 751 pubs in Dublin and only 3 days to enjoy them in, we’d have to take every opportunity afforded us!

As an interesting aside, until 1978 it was illegal in Ireland to sell alcohol on St Patrick’s Day. It was supposed to be a day spent in church or in quiet contemplation, appreciating the Saint – who was actually Welsh and only visited Ireland twice – bringing Christianity to Ireland.

Hardly the case anymore!

Jack regrouped us and walked us through Trinity College‘s beautiful campus and on to the National Library, where he sat us on the steps while he concluded his story with insight into modern day politics.

He then advised on good places to eat and drink in Dublin and invited us to join him at O’Neill’s, which we did… For a lot longer than expected!

Four pints, four hours and a whole lot of stories later, we parted ways with the world’s best tour guide, Jack Redmond, and went for a very necessary traditional Irish dinner at O’Shea’s, comprising traditional Irish Stew and Beef & Guinness Pie. Obviously.